Lucía LIJTMAER

Casi nada que ponerte

Los libros del lince, mayo 2016

PRAISEread morehide

«A rollercoaster ride to match the hechtic Argentine pace of life. A personal journey too, one of self-discovery that testifies to a courageous journalist. In its soul-searching, first and foremost, but also in terms of style.»
María Angulo, El Periódico

«One of this year’s breakout stars, a book without parallel, written in dazzling prose, flitting from one genre, one location and one identity to the next.»
Marta Peirano,...

«A rollercoaster ride to match the hechtic Argentine pace of life. A personal journey too, one of self-discovery that testifies to a courageous journalist. In its soul-searching, first and foremost, but also in terms of style.»
María Angulo, El Periódico

«One of this year’s breakout stars, a book without parallel, written in dazzling prose, flitting from one genre, one location and one identity to the next.»
Marta Peirano, El Diario

«This novel is what emerged when Lijtmaer, with her passion for Tom Wolfe’s New Journalism, returned from a trip to Argentina and set about putting her notes in order: a travel book, a biographical novel, the story of an empire, and of a country, in one particular era.»
Laura Fernández, El Mundo

SYNOPSISread morehide

Casi nada que ponerte somehow manages to be, at one and the same time, a chronicle of Argentina as seen by a woman who both recognises herself in the country and does not, a road movie through the Pampas, the dramatized biography of a couple of geniuses who emerged from the swamp and ended up living in a palace made of marble (and all without hurting a soul!). And, it goes without saying, a story, a good story, pure and simple, one that brings a smile to the face from the first page to the last.

The novel is above all about the stories we tell ourselves about our lives, the various narratives of the self that become memories and, with the passing of the years, the only thing we can call our own. It...

Casi nada que ponerte somehow manages to be, at one and the same time, a chronicle of Argentina as seen by a woman who both recognises herself in the country and does not, a road movie through the Pampas, the dramatized biography of a couple of geniuses who emerged from the swamp and ended up living in a palace made of marble (and all without hurting a soul!). And, it goes without saying, a story, a good story, pure and simple, one that brings a smile to the face from the first page to the last.

The novel is above all about the stories we tell ourselves about our lives, the various narratives of the self that become memories and, with the passing of the years, the only thing we can call our own. It does so through three characters: Mario and Roberto, a couple of visionaries who built a fashion empire in the Buenos Aires of the 70, 80s and 90s; and the author herself, Lucía Lijtmaer. She weaves her own story into that of the fashionistas, recounting her experiences as the daughter of Argentines raised in Barcelona, and shows, with a great deal of humour yet without flinching.